


Which food would he offer?

by kjstark



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, SO I PUT RHODEY BECAUSE HE DESERVES ATTENTION TOO FUCKERS, hints of stony, i just mention bucky btw, thor isnt here because there is no american newspaper in Asgard, totes clintasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjstark/pseuds/kjstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened when the rest of The Avengers (minus one, plus another armored not-superhero and definitely-not-sidekick) read the newspaper shown in Iron Man 3 that said he was dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Which food would he offer?

**Author's Note:**

> It's me with shitty-ass written fanfiction again. Ok, so this was a prompt my best friend gave me. I tried to keep it as canon as I enjoyed it, so basically it's quite a bit.  
> Thor isn't in this one because he's got Malekith shit to deal with, okay?  
> This is un-beta'd and probabbly full of weirdly-written phrases because English isn't my first language.

Rubbing his fingertips around the sides of his forehead, cursing all possible deity above him and the fact that he couldn't bring his fat ass up the lab and go to the fucking bed to get some rest, Bruce stumbled to the small kitchen in his apartment in Washington DC. He crashed slightly against the wooden living room table and watched the small photo portrait of him and Betty in their lab back at the University fall down to the floor. Wide smiles now cracked and shattered, and Bruce longed for those good ol' days.

Most of these days, anyway, he didn't blame the Hulk for all the shitty turns his life took anymore, nor himself either. Now he just accepted the fact that things change, for the better or the worst is a different matter, but they change for something. That something, in this case, became a broken and dysfunctional group of freaks that were quickly starting to feel somewhat like family. Or at least he was pretty sure Tony did. Tony, aka the owner of the apartment Bruce was currently living in, aka the obnoxious and annoying man that treated the rest of the team like inferior individuals but not him, no, he was a fan of him, and the Hulk. Tony, aka the very first person that didn't tip-toe around him, afraid of one Hulk appearing out of nowhere because he said the wrong thing. Tony, aka the man who pushed because he knew better. Tony, aka the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist superhero called Iron Man.

He got to the kitchen just to see the coffee bag empty, really hating his life this time. Bruce thought his day could not get worse.

Until he read the holographic paper, anyway.

He bit his lip hard while he thought quickly of the equation that would solve his problem. He grabbed a glass of juice and sent a kind of prayer to his troubled friend.

Because the press didn't knew Tony Stark like he did. He's saved his unconscious body from crashing against the hard pavement of the streets of New York, he’s yelled at his annoyingly silent face and made the man woke up. And even if he couldn't help his friend right now, he, too, knew better.

Tony wasn't dead. Tony is a fighter.

-o-

Natasha quickly finished washing her unbearably hot body and really considered telling SHIELD not to send her to awfully easy missions that developed in hell-like weathery countries. She grapped the robe around her chest and got out of the bathroom, to find a very sweaty Clint doing their bags neatly. Not that they brought much clothing, basically just the undercover ones.

"Seriously, I'm going to corner Coulson's sorry ass and tell him to get his useless agents on this level-1 missions. We shouldn't be even considered on this stuff anymore," Clint was frowning and Natasha raised her eyebrows in agreement, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"They said it could turn difficult," she tried to explain. Clint looked at her for a brief moment and then swept off the sweat of his forehead.

"We're avengers, Nat. We should be doing more serious shit than this, or you know," he turned on his back and let himself fall against the mattress behind her "resting," he finished closing his eyes. Natasha turned to look at him and smiled. Yeah, her life wasn't probably the greatest, but at least she had Clint to be miserable with her. "Banner is off to Washington, thinking no one knows he's there, and with Stark money. Steve is getting in touch with Mr. Twenty first century, Tony is probably stalking him and— _ugh_ , we should've gone with Thor," Clint complained, and Natasha shook her head. "C'mon, everyone else's probably having the time of their life, enjoying our new gained fame, and here we are, roasting in Hell-o-land." He sighed heavily and Natasha turned her body to look at him more comfortably.

"We can hack into SHIELD flight codes and have us landing on Budapest," she suggested with a smile, and Clint opened his eyes again. He gave her a look, a private stare reserved just for her, and then he leaned in higher and had their lips met. He wouldn't be the one to put a name on it, this thing they were, but he was glad that even 'til the gates of hell, he'll have Natasha next to him.

They stopped short after because of the ringing of their special SHIELD communicator. Natasha touched the screen of the small device and one holographic Phil appeared between them. "We need you to come back, ASAP," he said simply.

"Why?" Clint asked, a little annoyed.

"There might be a situation," Phil said, a little bit nonchalant "or not".

"What is it?" Natasha said, her expressionless mask on. Next thing that happened was a footage. Something about the new government's treat, The Mandarin. The pentagon had kindly _(read: harshly)_ asked _(read: demanded)_ for SHIELD to stay out of the situation. It's wasn't superhero business. They said they could handle it, obviously they couldn't, but Fury condescendingly nodded and shut them all off. And then something about their teammate dying. Natasha looked at Clint and he looked back at her, worry flashed through their faces for about twenty seconds. Then they remembered who this was. And then Clint chuckled.

"Call us when Stark actually needs our help," and he shut the device off. And took a bath with his favorite person in the world.

-o-

Rhodey flipped through files after files. Trying to find something he knew wasn't there. He knew the Mandarin wasn't possibly working alone. And he knew that Tony's kidnap had a lot to do with the Arab organization proudly called 'The Ten Rings'. He searched the files Pepper stole from Obadiah's computer back then. He read Stane's records, his entire file. No relatives aside of Howard and Tony and all people he already knew. He read Happy's file, too, nothing out of the ordinary either.

Absolutely nothing.

Rhodey sighed and let himself fall on his chair. Rubbed his forehead and took a sip of water. He had to fix this whole problem, without Tony's or Tony's new buddies' help. And if he did it before any more people died, it could be ten times better.

He just wanted to feel it, the right to own the shiny suit that was standing in front of him. He didn't want to be addressed anymore as the guy who ' _took_ ' the thing. Or the guy whom Tony Stark had _gifted_ one of his suits to. He wanted to be the rightful pilot of the War Machine-- _Iron Patriot_ armor, and he wanted to help his country. That's the vow he took tons of years ago, when all he wanted was to touch the sky and belong somewhere.

Rhodey smiled despite his stress, because he knew he could do it. He was his one kind of hero, low-scale but truly important. And that went beyond wearing that suit. Because every soldier, every airmen, was important in their own way. He wasn't a hero, and that wasn't bad. Being a sidekick wasn't bad, but he wasn't that, either, anyway.

He closed his eyes and put a mental sticky-note into naming what he considered himself to be exactly, and turned on the TV.

And then he sighed, fully caught on what the screen was giving him. He felt his heart-rate run faster as the scenes were flashing. The Malibu house breaking apart, the shiny gold and red blurry form of his best friend getting lost in deep-blue water. And then he took a deep breath, knowing that this event will cause his friend much more psychological problems. And then it was Pepper's loud scream, and something closed tightly in Rhodey's throat.

But he took a moment to study everything he felt. Yes, as usual he was worried about Tony, that was a constant thing about his life, almost as constant as breathing. But then the familiar easiness on his heart, the one that he felt years ago, while his friend remained caught in a filthy cave in Afghanistan, back when everybody except him and Pepper thought he was dead. That easiness told him what it always did: _he's fine, injured, obviously, but not dead, and you're going to get his ass back to safety, and help him, like you always do._

So Rhodey left the mess on his desk, didn't bother to change his green polo shirt, and did exactly just that.

-o-

Steve was marveled, there was no other way to put it. After he was past the phase of confusion and despair, and then the resignation, he quickly became more and more amazed by all the things around him. Even with all the wholes he felt in his heart, he knew he could find his place in this time. He knew that if he could help people then he was useful. And he knew he could find a family in his shattered team despite what the majority of its members felt about the subject.

Of all, he knew it wasn't going to be easy. It was going to take time and his very persistent effort.

He remembered once Bucky telling him how he liked fighting for lost causes, and absent-mindedly thought of one arrogant goatee-d, brown haired hero. One that sent him a special Stark phone to his SHIELD-provided apartment in Queens —Steve had very kindly asked for something small, quiet and New Yorker, quite the challenge in such request, but they found it, and of course, Tony hacked into SHIELD computers and searched the address. He said something about wanting to know where and how each avenger is, and something about a project that would make that issue disappear. Steve secretly wished it was that he was turning his tower into a special avengers’ head-quarter, but never asked, because he knew it was just too much. So he thanked the iron hero, and never heard of him again.

And then The Mandarin happened. And Steve asked and yelled but Fury stood his foot down. Reminded him that he didn't exactly worked for the government directly, and that even though the man couldn't be addressed as anything else but _soldier_ , America only knew him as another civilian, or at least the official part of America, the part that could put him in jail for taking in his hands matters that weren't his business. So Steve bit his lower lip, frustrated, and Fury told him not to worry, that the world as messy as it was, was going to find its way to get into trouble, and he promised Steve was going to be the first person to get called. And also told him to turn off his TV. And Steve, although he didn't want to, did.

But that didn't stop him from reading the paper that December morning.

He felt his heart skip a beat as he read the headers, and fought the urge of breathing harshly, making his super-serum work.

Memories of said words flashed across his mind and guilt washed him over again. Because he had been so wrong about Tony, so far wrong, that he was probably never going to forgive himself for making such mistaken assumptions, and for saying them to him either. Now? Now he couldn't think of Tony Stark, the Iron Man, as anything but the man who lays down on the wire and lets people crawl over him. Anything but the man who would take all of the one-way trips he could to make the world a safer place. And he cursed Fury, and the government's ego, because all he wanted was to go and find him, and help him. And tell him he had his back. But he couldn't, not right now.

So he did the only thing he could do, simple enough. He took his Stark phone and heard a message that wasn't meant for him: Tony's shaking voice, talking to Pepper, something about a big rabbit, a wooden Indian, and having to fix things on his own. But before Steve could press the button that Tony explained was meant for secretive and special conversations, a call got in.

"Captain Rogers, something's turned up," it was the very recognizable voice of Coulson. Steve waited.

"What is it?" he asked when the agent didn't talk.

"We found a... _someone_ , we're not sure who he is, but one of our special agents was behind his tracks," Coulson was being extremely vague with his exposition, and Steve fought the urge to rush him, "his next mission is— is to kill you, Steve," the agent, whom Steve remembered to be a great fan of him, said, with genuine worry. Steve took a pause.

"What do want me to do?" he asked, and heard Coulson breathe against the speaker.

"We need you here at the Triskeleon, right now; we need to look into this guy before we make any moves. Director Fury says he's no news, apparently he's highly trained and has been running around for quite a long time, but he only shows up every once in a while. A quinjet has been sent to pick you up," he explained and Steve looked through his window, wondering if maybe this could be an enemy from the past, and then he looked down at the paper on his hands, and remembered.

"Agent Coulson," he said but Phil quickly replied,

"He's fine, Cap, we already located him, he's in Tennessee with an infant called Harley Keener," Phil explained, and Steve could swear he felt his heart beating again "we really need you here right now, though, Fury thinks you might know this guy," Coulson added, just in case.

"I really hope I don't," he added, sighing and hanging up.

He took a final look at the newspaper and smiled, because he knew Tony wasn't a quitter. Tony was the man who offered Shawarma when half of New York has been blown to pieces, and he wondered, smiling: _if he could speak to Tony right now, which food would he offer?_

**Author's Note:**

> It kinda bothered me that Tony wasnt asking for food at the end of Iron Man 3, if I can be honest. But anyway.  
> I tried.


End file.
